


Interlude I

by obaewankenope (rexthranduil)



Series: Signalling Theory: Blue Coat [5]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Baby Newt, Gen, I'm worldbuilding and creating backstory, Screw you JK I can do this shit too, it's a flashback ahahahaha, please, someone please stop me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 16:50:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9500819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexthranduil/pseuds/obaewankenope
Summary: An interlude in the action, time for thoughts and background building:There may be shadows in his future, shapeless things that threatened danger, but her son would endure it all in the strongest and most unrelenting of ways. In the world of magic, Nafre felt that her son was the beginning of something new, borne out of what had come before him to blaze a new path to a brighter future in ways Nafre could not explain.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Someone stop me. I'm honestly building this and I _shouldn't be_.

When Newt was three, barely able to walk but already so adventurous, his mother took him to see her sister and her family. Theseus was with father, bonding over their shared love of camping — something Newt would come to enjoy from necessity — so it left Newt and mother free to do as they liked.

Although he was young, with few memories and little control over his magic — far stronger than Theseus' had been at his age, his mother and father had both noted quietly one evening — Newt was tenacious and curious enough to search for the things that interested him. 

And what interested Newt was a little girl — his cousin, he'd later learn from mother — who was playing with dolls that floated off the ground, dancing above the green cut grass. She had barely given him a glance as he'd dropped down onto the ground beside her and watched her with wide blue-green eyes.

Eventually however she'd become fed up with his staring. 

"What?" She asked, turning her attention away from her dolls to the toddler beside her. 

Newt blinked at her with an innocent look. He looked at her dolls, suspended in the air now but wobbling precariously. "Fly," he said, simply, as though that explained everything. 

It probably did to him. 

"No," she said, shaking her head. "They're not flying, they're  _ floating _ ."

Newt blinked again, staring at the dolls for a long moment before he shook his head. "No." He raised a hand, chubby little fingers pointing at the dolls as he looked directly at her.  " _ Fly _ ."

The sound of surprising shouting drew Newt's mother and her sister towards them in a hurried walk and both witches were surprised at the sight that met them as they hurried towards their children.

Newt was running through the grass, the girl beside him, as her dolls swooped through the air, diving like they were little birds chasing after flies. 

Nafre stared at her son with an open-mouthed look of amazement on her face. Kendra tore her eyes from the sight of her daughter playing with her cousin, to look at her sister. "He's very brazen," she commented levelly, not commenting on the magical prowess her nephew was displaying.

Nafre looked at her sister, blinking rapidly as she tried to push away her surprise. "Yes," she agreed. "I didn't think he'd be quite so direct with Ariana; she's older than him after all."

Kendra didn't shrug but she truly wanted to. She felt as confused as her sister, the pair of them watching their children play together with such ease. "Ariana doesn't really play with other children, only Aberforth. It's nice to see her having fun when he's not around," she said softly. "Theseus doesn't have quite the same effect on her that little Newton does."

"Theseus dislikes playing with dolls," Nafre pointed out, giving her sister a smile. "Newt doesn't much care what the toys are so long as he can play with them."

Kendra laughed. "Is that why your last letter mentioned Titus becoming a glorified child's toy hmm?" She asked, mirth sparking in her dark eyes.

Nafre nodded, smiling widely. "He's not too bothered by it really," she explained as they sedately made their way towards their children. "Newt doesn't pluck his feathers like Theseus did at his age, so Titus is very tolerant of him."

Kendra hummed, her dark eyes watching her daughter and nephew play with an intense gleam. "I do think you've bore yourself a gentle child little sister," she said eventually. "He's positively blinding to look at."

Nafre started, turning her head to stare at her sister in surprise. "You mean—" she stopped abruptly, blinking as she tried to find the words "—he appears that way to you?"

Kendra nodded. "Oh yes, it's not obvious but- well—" she gave Nafre a knowing look "—our family has always had other talents besides magic. This is not something anyone in the magical world can understand I don't think. Not here anyway."

Nafre nodded slowly, understanding her sister's words. "I never really listened to father when he talked about his people you know, about the way they could feel the world and the life in it without magic," she admitted softly. "When we received our letters, when that wizard showed up on our door and told us we were witches, I thought that was what father had meant."

"But Hogwarts dispelled you of that notion," Kendra said, not even attempting to couch her statement in a question; it was an undeniable fact, one Nafre had come to terms with. 

"Eventually yes." Nafre stopped walking, Kendra halting beside her, and the two witches watched their children drop down onto grass not far away from them. The children drew the dolls, still swooping through the air, towards them with outstretched hands, and Nafre felt like she was witnessing something precious. "They're so innocent Kendra," she sighed. "I feel like this world is too cruel for them."

Kendra pressed against her sister's side, offering her comfort. "As do I sister, as do I," she murmured, a note of sadness in her voice. "I feel as though something is stirring in the future, something that wants to harm all those I love, but I cannot live my life in fear of that. It will destroy everything I have if I let such fear control me."

Nafre sighed. "I know… it's a feeling I get too sometimes. Rarely. But it seems to always come when I wonder about Newt and his future." Nafre looked at her sister, her lighter eyes troubled. "It worries me."

"You're a mother," Kendra said, smiling softly at her sister. "That's what we mothers are  _ supposed  _ to do; worry eternally about our children, even when they no longer need us to."

Looking over at her son, Nafre watched as he held out the doll in his hand for Ariana to take, a wide smile on his face that lit up the world. She couldn't help but fear for him, for Ariana too, as she noticed the dark, angry stormclouds growing on the horizon, hanging over the children's heads like harbingers of doom. 

The world was changing at an alarming pace, Muggles developing faster and more efficient technology even as the magical world dug its heels in deeper into the shadows to avoid notice. Nafre had grown up for eleven years as an outcast in the Muggle society of Britain. Her skin, her hair, her temper, her affinity for animals, always a source of tension and hatred from those around her. Kendra had suffered the same, but she had suffered also for her choice to protect her sister from the bullying as best she could.

Their father had explained to them once, not long before that letter came, that they were treated so cruelly because of petty reasons; that they could not do much to change it, indeed, they could do nothing to change it because trying to stop the treatment would just make it worse. He had looked at Nafre and Kendra with such sadness in his eyes, Nafre had hugged him on impulse. She still remembered the way he'd clung to her, arms wrapped around her tightly as though he were trying to hide her from the world.

Nafre never wished to have to do the same with her children, never wanted to feel that soul-deep need to protect her children so viciously and yet be so powerless to do so. Yet, as Nafre watched her youngest son play freely and without restraint, she had the strongest feeling that she would be doing the same with Newt as her father had once done with Kendra and herself.

It burned to think, but Nafre was no fool and she had never been one for avoiding the issue. Kendra had developed the habit of avoiding the problem, pushing it to the side, trying to control everything in order to reduce whatever it was that was causing friction to dust, but that just wasn't Nafre's nature. Her father had often called them his knowledge and his kindness, as though those were the two things he cared for most about his legacy. Nafre had often wondered if perhaps their father had named them wrong; Nafre did not feel so kind, she felt more like she were a wolf, watching and waiting always for the opening to strike. 

Watching her youngest, Nafre wondered why she had chosen 'Newton' as his name. Her oldest son had been named Theseus several days after he'd been born, the result of Nafre pouring over books as she sought out the name that felt right for him. Theseus; a Greek hero who slew the Minotaur in the maze. It had felt right for him. 

But Newt… Newton's name had been a challenge that had taken Nafre more than a week to eventually solve. She had flipped through the dozens of books her husband had collected over the years, making her way steadily through the magical stories and Muggle tales where she thought she'd find her second child's name, only to no avail.

It had been while Nafre was visiting the Muggle village near to her husband's family home, enjoying the chance to wander freely without her husband worrying after her — really, she'd already given birth to one child, the second had proved no bother other than his name — that she had stumbled upon the answer to her son's name. A bookshop. 

It had been lavish inside, books stocked from floor to ceiling in a way that would have made Thaddeus weep with joy at the sight, and Nafre had allowed herself a moment to enjoy the sense of wondrousness she always felt when surrounded by such knowledge; it was a sense her sister had evoked in her when she'd been young. The owner of the store had greeted her with such graceful politeness, Nafre had been charmed, and had allowed him to list the genres and types of books he possessed.

Some of them had sounded intriguing, topics Nafre felt her husband would have liked to read — he did so enjoy the sheer ingenuity of Muggles when it came to their science, something Nafre had indulged her husband in by buying scientific texts for his birthday each year — when the owner had listed several new books in his collection by notable scientists and philosophers.

"—his Chronology on Ancient Kingdoms is quite an interesting read if I'm honest; something I'm sure your husband would find greatly interesting," the owner rambled, but Nafre had stopped paying attention the moment she had seen the name printed in gilded gold on the spine of the book the owner had pointed out to her.

Here was the name she had been looking for. Why, Nafre could not say. What it would mean for her son, she also could not say. But looking at it, seeing it in gilded gold, Nafre knew it was to be her son's name; it was _right_.

Newton. Newton Scamander.

Her son would be remarkable, just like his brother. For different reasons, and in different ways Nafre was sure, but just as remarkable. Watching the way he played so freely among the green grass with his cousin, Nafre was more certain than ever that she had named her son well.

There may be shadows in his future, shapeless things that threatened danger, but her son would endure it all in the strongest and most unrelenting of ways. In the world of magic, Nafre felt that her son was the beginning of something new, borne out of what had come before him to blaze a new path to a brighter future in ways Nafre could not explain.

Newton was the name for him. The name of a Muggle man who had changed the Muggle world with his dedication to his passion. Yes… that was the perfect name for her son who burned with the same passion already. He was destined for greatness; as all of the children of the Prewett line, no matter how far removed, tended to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Ten thousand points to anyone who figures out connections and family relations here ahahahahahaah.


End file.
